About freakin’ time…
So the boy can’t dance. But that’s all pounds, shillings and pence to us ’cause our reasons for watching Mark Foster off-of totally not gay, no way, on Strictly Come On My Tits Dancing had nothing to do with how graceful his lovely long Lindas were on a parquet floor.
So it was with two woops and a prolonged cheer in our dolly household that Mark’s denouement was met last night, after he bowed to public pressure and peeled off his lady’s blouse so-help-us-Baby-G, after being booted off the show for being a bit shit at the dancing thing - accompanied, as evidenced above, by the two-thumb’s up, shy-boy-going-a-bit-wild gesture. Which is endearing if you like that sort of thing.
There’s another pictorial after the jump, as well as his strip in moving pictures. Wethankyou.
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It was like watching your most embarrassing (and embarrassingly hot) uncle dance.
Yum.
You were only watching it to get a glimpse of us! What will you do now?
I don’t know how I feel about this. All I wanted was to see him strip, but once he had and gave the thumbs up, a little piece of me died. What on earth did Colin Jackson make of it?
A damn good meal of it, that’s what. The same as he does every night. Lucky bastard!